Stay, Stay, Stay
by selenicsoulmates
Summary: "I've been lovin' you for quite some time, time, time. You think that it's funny when I'm mad, mad, mad." Absolutely necessary pre-book 2 Makorra fluff.


**Makorra's done a fabulous job at ruining my life with all their angst so this needed to be done. It's kinda dumb but it makes me happy, so here it is: pre-book 2 Makorra. **

* * *

_But I think that it's best if we both __**stay**__._

~.~

She finds herself back at his door a few hours after their argument.

It was their first fight as a couple. Or, well, first big fight.

They were teaching each other sparring techniques when Mako made a comment on Korra's stance. Of course, she felt obligated to correct him that this stance was _the right stance_, but his stubborn personality shined through when _he_ corrected _her_ that _no, it was wrong_. And Korra couldn't let him win because _she _was stubborn, and one thing led to another, and eventually the newly refurbished gym at the arena was filled with ugly scorch marks on freshly painted walls. They screamed and burned and fought (in the literal sense. Now that she looks back, the fight was short from a nonbending version of an Agni Kai. Which, she notes, she started). She landed a hit to his cranium that left him reeling, and her ceasing the fight entirely.

But her mulishness proved once again to be her down fall, and with a release of fire from her closed fists, she stormed out of the arena and swam all the way back to Air Temple Island.

Should she knock? Maybe she should come back later. Way later. As in, everyone's-already-asleep later. That sounds good. Fantastic, even.

Her fist makes contact with the door with one loud knock, and she brings it back to her chest, swearing underneath her breath. Maybe she could jump out the hallway window. Three stories isn't bad at all. No problem.

Before she makes her decision, the door pulls open, and she freezes, staring up at him.

He doesn't say anything, but when her eyes meet his for the first time in hours, her gaze immediately switches to the ground. She inhales deeply through her nose. This was not going to be pleasant.

"You know I'm new to this whole relationship thing," her arms cross below her breasts, bottom lip jutted out. "And, well," she fiddles, pinching at the edges of her arm bands. Even though she's practically scowling at the ground at the moment, probably cursing every living person willing to listen, she holds an obvious nervous resolve. "I heard that you shouldn't just walk out during fights. You should resolve them and stuff."

She waits for his response, for his bare feet to back into the apartment and let her in, but they don't move. Korra has to force her boot not to tap against the floorboards to ease the tension. Spirits, this is frustrating. And stupid. Why is she doing this, again?

Oh, right. 'Cus she loves the idiot. Damn it all.

The silence is heavy, unmoving, and Korra's collar is starting to itch. She heaves a frustrated sigh, almost ready to call it quits until another day, when he maneuvers back into the apartment, letting her inside.

"Just wait here a 'sec."

"Alright," she says, as she closes the door behind her and makes her way over to the lone coffee table, watching Mako wander back into his room quickly. She hears him fumble around through what she guesses is one of his gym bags. Finally, after a minute, Mako walks back out to the living room.

With his probending helmet on.

"Okay," he adjusts the helmet's strap, before nodding at the girl staring agape from her place on the couch, "Let's talk."

"You're wearing your probending helmet," Korra points lazily, eyeing Mako warily.

Mako nods. "Yeah."

"I…never mind," she shakes her head. "I just wanted to apologize about how I yelled at you after our sparring match. And that I'm really sorry for what I said. And I know it seemed like we broke up but I really don't want to and…" she trails off, biting her lip.

"Wait, what?"

Korra's brow raises, "Well, when you yelled, and then _I _yelled, and then _you_ yelled back, and then we started hitting each other, I thought we, you know."

"Korra, I'm not gonna break up with you over a sparring match."

"But we yelled at each other," she answers slowly. "And kicked each other."

"We got a little stubborn about our forms and took it out on one another," Mako shrugs.

"So," she drawls, unevenly. "You aren't mad at me or anything?"

"A little," he replies. "But definitely not as much as before. I got over it, Korra."

She glares at the scruff of her boots, feeling foolish. "Oh."

Mako sighs, raising her chin up so her conflicting blue eyes meet his warm amber. Her annoyance already seems to lesson; he's always had a knack of cooling her down with just a simple gaze. It was a feat that she would make sure he never knew, but feared he was already aware of his own talent. "We're gonna fight a lot. I knew that as soon as I met you. But I'm not gonna let you go because of one pesky argument, okay?"

"Okay," Korra whispers. "Can you take your helmet off now? I won't spar with you this time. I promise."

He releases a chuckle, knowing her true intentions (and not denying that he was more than willing to comply with them), moving to unbuckle the clip that held the helmet in place. Halfway off his head, he groans out in pain, alerting his girlfriend, who's content and lustful expression changed almost instantaneously.

"What's wrong?"

When he pulls the helmet off completely, a gasp releases at the sight of a large, unpleasant-looking bruise on the right side of his forehead. The discoloration of the wound worries her. How hadn't she noticed before?

"Yeah," he contorts. "I think it's getting worse. And the headache that comes with it won't go away."

Her hand raises to the immense bump marring his forehead. "Mako, how'd this happen?"

"You kinda kicked me in the face," Mako reminds her, grimacing when Korra traces the ugly bruise with her fingertips.

"Oh Sprits," she releases a groan, heavy with guilt. "I'm so sorry. Jeez, why do you even put up with me?"

He's silent for a moment, and deep inside, Korra worries. She wouldn't blame him if he grabbed her extra clothes that laid unfolded in his top left drawer, and her extra tooth brush, and everything else that she kept there and sent her back to Air Temple Island, wanting nothing to do with her. She just didn't want that. Korra pulls her hand away from him, swallowing roughly. He was going to do it. They were done. She messed up too badly and now he's sick and tired of it and will never speak to her again.

"Because I love you."

Her eyes widen, and she doesn't really know why. Perhaps it's the cool, nonchalant way he says it; how it curls off his tongue as easily as a simple 'hello.' Or maybe she just isn't used to it yet – never will be. She doesn't know.

Regardless, she hides her embarrassed blush in his ruffled t-shirt, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso. His come around her just as firmly, and he rests his cheek against her soft, brown hair.

"Plus, you're kinda funny when you're mad."

She lifts her chin up, eying him playfully, "I don't think I was funny a few hours ago, Mr. I-may-have-a-concussion."

Mako releases a quiet hum, maneuvering his face downward to kiss her already puckered lips. They move in synchronized steps, practiced yet raw at the same time. When the kiss deepens, Korra's fingers snake up from his chest to his neck, finally reaching at the back of his head to the spiked part of his hair and pushes him closer. She expects a moan, as usual, but instead gains a hiss of pain.

Korra releases his mouth from between her teeth and frowns. "Are you okay?"

"Headache," he answers, "but I'm fine."

Korra reaches for his hand, lacing her fingers with his and squeezing tight, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he gently smiles down at her and squeezes back, silently telling her that she didn't need to apologize. "You know I've been through worse."

"I still should try healing you, though," Korra pulls his hand toward the lone bathroom in his apartment. Mako finds a comfortable spot on the red toilet seat cover and watches as Korra fills the sink with cold water. Once filled to the top, she turns the faucet off, bending a miniscule amount of water onto her right palm.

She bends until the water glows, echoing with the sound of familiar healing properties, and she places herself on top of Mako's legs, in front of him. He chuckles lightly, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her steady as she hovers against the noticeable bump on the right tip of his forehead. Mako relaxes, closing his eyes and feeling the steady thrum of Korra's waterbending working wonders against his wound. The headache already begins to ease, turning into a light, dull throb. He lets himself fall into a blissful, quiet peace until the cooling sensation leaves. His eyes crack open when he hears the water splash into the tub, and then Korra's lips linger against his temple, before releasing to smile at him.

"I'll do another healing session in an hour or two, okay?"

He doesn't answer, choosing instead to bury his face in the crook of her neck, her hair tickling his nose. The scent of Naga's fur clings onto her, and he can't find himself to feel anything but absolute pleasure from the smell of polarbear dog.

After a moment of Korra rubbing soothing circles against the ends of his black hair, she gently forces his head up to face her. His amber eyes are tired, but happy, comforting, matching the light smile gracing his handsome features. She cups his cheeks, thumb maneuvering softly back and forth, tracing his cheek bones.

"I love you," she kisses him again, just because she can. "Thanks for staying with me."

"As if you would've given me a choice."

She laughs.

"I probably wouldn't have."


End file.
